A Deal with the Devil (or, Six Dates to Defeat a Demon)
by LittleRedHatRocks
Summary: Henry approaches the Ink Demon - who he once knew as Joey Drew - with a proposal, in the hope of saving himself and his former colleagues: putting his own body and soul on the line in the process. His hope of success depends on Sammy and Susie remembering their past and rekindling their halted romance - but given their chequered history, has Henry bitten off more than he can chew?
1. The Deal is Struck

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:**

 _ **This was written before the release of Chapter 4, and is set in a (probable) AU where Sammy and Susie are still alive, albeit in their respective monstrous forms. The Ink Demon is a hybrid of Bendy and Joey with some self-awareness, corrupted by evil and power.**_

 _ **(And yes, the title is a Cuphead reference. It seemed to fit.)**_

Guided by the dim, flickering light of a candle, Henry slowly traversed the labyrinth of ink-stained walls and creaking floorboards that were once Joey Drew Studios, venturing towards the room he knew to be the Ink Demon's Lair. As always, he clutched his axe tightly in his other hand, ready to wield it if necessary, but hoped on this occasion that he'd have no need to use it. If things went down the way he was planning them to, their meeting would be a lot more... civil.

Reaching the door of the old foley recording studio that the demon had claimed as its own, Henry drew a deep breath, braced himself, and pushed it open with a sudden shove. The speed was vital: if it heard a slow creak, the Ink Demon would have time to formulate an attack. His intention was to take it by surprise - and he succeeded.

Turning its head violently at the sound of wood thudding against the wall, the demon emitted an piercing screech, and charged towards Henry - fangs beared, and inky claws pointed and ready to seize.

"Joey."

The name was said in a flat tone - matter-of-fact, no trace of panic or fear. The sharpness of it stunned the demon, and it froze, staring up at Henry with its large, glowing eyes blazing through the ink. Seeing the aged animator standing there calmly, daring to look it in the face, it let out a low, deep laugh, and slowly straightened itself up in the manner of a man - two legs forming out of its dark inky figure.

"So... you've figured it out, eh, Henry?"

The voice was a strange hybrid of different tones. Part of it was definitely the voice of the Joey that Henry had worked with all those years ago, but it seemed to be overlaid with the happier, squeaker, almost-melodic voice he'd used for Bendy in the talkie cartoons. The undercurrent, however, was a dark, unnerving echo... the voice of something unearthly. Unholy.

"Come on in," said Joey, gesturing with a wave of a dripping claw. "Make yourself comfortable, old pal. I'd have baked you a cake if I'd known you were comin'."

As Henry stepped further into the room. Joey slunk past him towards the foley stage. There, atop a pentagram, was a chair that had been covered in solidified ink in order to resemble a hellish throne. Joey placed himself upon it in the manner of a king, giving court to the peasant Henry, who refused to sit down and simply stood there in his presence.

 _Typical_ , Henry thought. _Still, he always was an egotistical little bastard._

"To what do I owe the pleasure?" Joey purred.

" _Why_ , Joey?" Henry asked, in that same unflinching tone from before. "All this... why did you do it?"

The demon jerked in an action that resembled a shrug.

"Success comes at a cost, Henry," he replied off-handedly. "The gods made me an offer I couldn't refuse."

"But why them? Why the employees? They were your _friends!_ They were loyal to you! What did _they_ do to deserve any of this?"

"Every achievement involves some sort of... sacrifice."

Henry hug his head.

"Sammy..." he muttered. "I saw Sammy down there - singing his old sheep songs."

"Ah, my loyal little prophet," Joey said, almost whimiscally. "He actually thinks his Lord is going to set him free. Ha! He revers me more now than he ever did before. How can I let go of that?"

"And Susie," Henry went on. "Alice Angel... I'd know that voice anywhere. What the hell did you do to her, Joey? For Christ's sake, didn't you mess her up enough when she was alive?"

"You have to give somethin' to get somethin', Henry," Joey replied flatly, waving a claw dismissively. "The toons needed a human body to inhabit... to act as their framework. I offered myself for Bendy, of course. As for Susie - well, she was already convinced she _was_ Alice Angel... I simply made her dream come true."

He grinned.

"Because _that's_ what I do, old pal."

Henry could feel his hands beginning to tremble with rage - his fingers tightening around the axe. One good, quick swing, and he could finish this.

But then... who could say what would happen to the others?

No. It wasn't worth the risk. Exhaling heavily, Henry forced himself to relax, and lifted his head to meet Joey's glare once again.

"And it's not just them," he went on. "Norman, Allison, Shaun, Grant... everyone. What about _their_ dreams, Joey? _Their_ futures? Futures that _you_ robbed from them?"

" _What_ futures?" Joey hissed. "You mean insecurity and panic when they became unemployed because the studio collapsed? Hell - I had to do _somethin'_ , Henry! Who are you to judge me? You weren't around when the shit _really_ hit the fan! By then, you'd already run off, like a rat fleeing a sinkin' ship! _You_ abandoned them!"

Pulling himself back, he let out a low chuckle.

"Still," he said, "at least now, they'll be together forever. One big, happy family - just like we were when we all worked here."

Henry sighed - turning the axe over and over in his hands.

"You're right, Joey," he muttered. "I _did_ abandon them back then. But I _won't_ abandon them now."

Intrigued, Joey cocked his head, looking down at the little man standing so proudly before him.

"And what _exactly_ do you plan to do?" he asked.

Much to his surprise, Henry flashed him a small, thin smile.

"You always liked a good deal, didn't you, Joey?" he said. "A man who knew a bargain when he saw one. Well, I'm prepared to offer you the chance of a lifetime."

Leaning back upon his throne confidently, Joey clasped his dark paws together - his claws pointed upwards in a pyramid.

"Go on," he purred.

"Sammy and Susie," Henry continued. "They loved each other, Joey. You knew that, didn't you?"

"Of course I did," Joey replied. "Everyone in the damn studio could see it."

"Then let's play a little game, you and me," Henry told him. "Just like we did in the old days. Give Sammy and Susie their humanity back, and let's see if they carry on from where they left off."

Joey scoffed.

"That's a bit one-sided, isn't it?" he hissed. "I mean, come on, pal - what's in it for me?"

"If they fall in love again," Henry told him. "then you let them go. You let them, me and all the other employees go - return them to the way they were. But if they don't..."

He hesitated, his voice wavering. The pressure of having Joey leaning over him to hear what he said next didn't exactly help the situation either.

"If they don't?" Joey prompted.

"Then... you get me," Henry said. "Forever. In whatever form you wish. I mean, to be surrounded by loyal followers - anybody with a bit of power can see to that. But to have your rival, a traitor, trapped in your grasp for all eternity - well, wouldn't that be the perfect revenge?"

Joey smirked.

"Indeed it would," he admitted. "All right, Henry. You're on. But I have some terms."

"Name them."

"Well, first - I ain't changin' Sammy and Susie back to the way they used to be _just_ yet," Joey cackled. "I mean, let's not count chickens before they hatch, huh? But, I'll give them _some_ of their memories back. Just a few. Give you a little somethin' to work with."

"Fine."

"And second - I ain't waitin' forever for them to get all lovey-dovey again. They have to do it in three days."

"Ten."

"Six. Final offer."

Henry knew that number wasn't a coincidence. Six had strong connotations in witchcraft and demonology - especially when three of them were together. Perhaps Joey was hoping it would help things swing in his favour. Still, it was leeway.

"Very well," he replied.

"And lastly," Joey hissed. "I want proof. I ain't just goin' to take your word for it that they're back on the love train. They're gonna have to kiss. And no half-hearted pecks, either. I'm talkin' a real, true-love smooch. The second they do that, then the curse is lifted, and everyone goes home, happily ever after, the end."

Cockily, he extended a demonic paw to his former friend.

"What do you say? Have we got a deal?"

Without a moment's thought, Henry seized the paw, and shook it - his own hand completely enveloped by the sticky, inky appendage.

"Deal."

As a satisfied Joey began to cackle madly, ink flooded the walls of the studio, and the ground trembled beneath Henry's feet - the floorboards giving way, and sending him tumbling into the darkness below.

Leaning back on his throne, Joey buffed his claws against his chest, and sighed.

Sure, he was sacrificing his little prophet for the sake of this bet, but he still had the Projectionist and other creatures firmly under his spell - within his power. With the Bendy cutouts, his all-seeing eyes, dotted around the studio corridors, and with the help of his remaining legions, he stop any sort of lip-lock between Sammy and Susie the second they started making goo-goo eyes at one another.

As for their restored memories... well, he'd never said anything about them all being _good_ ones.

Still, it would be fun to see Henry try to set them back up - and fail at it fantastically. Gods knew he could use some amusement after thirty long years.

Chuckling contentedly, Joey sank away into the ocean of ink that had formed around his dark throne. _This_ was going to be too easy.


	2. The Prophet's Vision

Within his sacred sanctuary, Sammy Lawrence worked diligently to please his lord and saviour. Using the ink that eternally dripped from his malformed fingers, he hastily drew a pentagram onto the floorboards, surrounded it with candles (which he lit, with great difficulty, using some old discarded matches from a desk drawer), and placed one of the numerous Bendy cut-outs he'd found dotted around the halls within the centre.

Content, he slid his mask - the holy icon of his god - back over his face, and prostrated before the cut-out in a low, reverent bow: the impromptu arrangement having formed a sinister altar.

"Hail Bendy, Lord of Ink, hear my prayer - grant your unworthy servant your blessing..."

In hopeful anticipation, he dared to peek up at the cardboard image of his saviour.

In return for his courage, for the first time ever... his prayer was answered.

As his eyes met those of the cut-out Bendy, Sammy was suddenly blinded by an almighty flash. As the brightness faded, he realised that the world he could see around him was not the abandoned, decrepit cartoon studio he had dwelled in for so many years, but another place. Similar, perhaps, yet undeniably different.

 _ _This __was a bright, clean room - a hive of activity. All around Sammy, there were people scurrying to and fro, all working away. Some were sat at desks, drawing. Others were having exciting-sounding conversations with one another: words like "dubbing", "script" and "screening" being among those that caught Sammy's ears. In the room's corners, one man was sewing together the leg of a doll, whilst another loaded a long reel of film into a projector. Yet despite their differing actions, one common factor unified them all.

These people were __happy__.

This overwhelming sense of joy spread to Sammy. Utterly in awe, he reached out to try and touch one of the strangers... but the hand that appeared before him was not his own. __This __was a human hand, with normal skin tone and five well-formed digits - a series of short, golden-coloured hairs poking up along his arm in the gap between shirt cuff and wrist. Meanwhile, on the back of his neck, Sammy swore he could feel the gentle brush of yet more locks against his skin.

At first, everything he was seeing and experiencing confused Sammy greatly. Then, after a moment's thought, it occurred to him what this beautiful place actually was.

This was a vision. A holy vision - a gift from his god in exchange for his devotion. This was the paradise all true believers in Bendy were brought to, once they were released from their bodies: their inky temples to their lord's greatness. Sammy had never once doubted his saviour, and this was his reward - his faith now even more affirmed that it had ever been before.

 _ _Yet, if this was Paradise... why did it feel so familiar?__

Hearing a door creak, Sammy turned his head... and the Ink Lord revealed even more wonders to his prophet. Entering this busy, beautiful room was - appropriately enough - the most wonderful woman Sammy had ever laid eyes on.

Well-dressed, she had a curvy but perfectly-formed frame,: her proportions like those of an hourglass, her hair a flowing stream of hazel, which complimented her sapphire blue eyes. Her lips were full and luscious, and when she smiled, showing her pearl-white teeth, the room seemed to grow even brighter than it was before, and Sammy could feel his heart soaring. (Until this moment, he had doubted that he even had one anymore.)

But the best was yet to come. After being handed a few pages of paper by another of the room's inhabitants, Sammy stared as the woman walked - or rather, sashayed - towards a microphone, and started to sing.

In an instant, Sammy was spellbound. Not once, in his entire existence, had he heard such a beautiful voice. There was no way such melodies could come from a mere mortal woman. __This __was the voice of an angel.

A cool breeze softly blew through the room. As Sammy felt its refreshing touch, the winds whispered a name.

 _ _Susie.__

Bells began to ring in Sammy's head as long-lost memories re-emerged.

"Susie," he repeated, under his breath. "Susie Campbell."

His hand slipped beneath his mask - his fingertips growing wet as he felt the tears now rolling down his cheeks.

"My... my Susie..."

All too soon, it was over. The heavenly scene vanished as swiftly as it had appeared, and Sammy was once again in the ancient, ink-flooded room - the candles he had lit for his Lord providing the only light.

Crawling on his knees closer to the cut-out, Sammy clasped his inky hands together in supplication, begging his god to return the vision to him. As the minutes passed painfully, Sammy's pleas only grew more desperate - his body crumbling onto the floor as he sunk into a weeping, groaning heap, promising to give his saviour anything he desired if he would just let him see his beautiful Susie for one more moment.

(In his lair, the Ink Demon - the cut-out's eyes acting as a substitute for his own - fell off of his throne as he howled with wicked laughter, relishing his servant's torment.)

Once Sammy realised that begging was getting him nowhere, he composed and calmed himself, and carefully got to his feet - bowing solemnly to the icon before him.

 _ _Of course. Blessings were granted, not demanded. From now on, he would need to devote himself to his faith more than ever in order to win the favours he so desperately sought. The Ink Demon's will be done.__

As he prepared to return to his prayers, Sammy jumped in alarm as he heard a loud crash coming from down the hall. Immediately on his guard, he seized a old piece of ink-stained pipe that had fallen through the ceiling - well, Bendy knows when - and dashed towards the door, opening it slowly, and checking that the coast was clear before stepping out, sneaking swiftly in the direction of the sound.

Some moments later, the former music director found himself stood in front of a pile of crumbled plaster and smashed wooden floorboards. Beneath them, wriggling wildly as he struggled to get free, was a man. A human.

Sammy didn't like it when his prayerful rituals were disturbed. Raising the pipe above his head, he brought it down with all of his might, intending to smash out of the brains of his stranger - until his face looked up into his, and made Sammy stop short as he recognised who it was.

"H... Henry?"

"Sammy!" replied the intruder, in a stunned voice - one slightly more croaky and aged than the one Sammy recalled, but definitely Henry's. "You... you remember me?"

"Yes," Sammy answered... arguably more surprised by this than Henry was. Reaching down, he shoved the wreckage aside offered his now near-elderly ex-colleague his hand, and pulled him to his feet.

"What are you doing here?" he asked.

"Joey - Joey sent me a letter," Henry told him. "And, now that I'm here... now that I've seen everything... I want to help you. __All __of you. You, Norman, Susie -"

"Susie?!" Sammy repeated. "She's... she's __here? ____My __Susie's here?"

Henry's eyes widened. Only a couple of days ago, when Sammy had captured him as a sacrifice, he'd had no clue who he was. Now, not only did he recognise him - despite the effects of thirty years of ageing upon his body - but he also seemed to recall Susie... having never mentioned her once during their earlier confrontation.

It seemed that Joey really __had __accepted the deal, after all. That meant Sammy was beginning to remember who he really was.

At the same time, it meant the clock was now ticking.

"Yes," he told Sammy, taking his hand. "She's here. And I'll take you to her, right now."

"That... that would be wonderful..."

As quickly as his feet could carry him, Henry dragged Sammy through the maze of corridors towards the elevator - the latter leaving a trail of onyx-black ink behind him as they went. Time was of the essence.

And it was high time that the prophet met the angel.


	3. The Angel of Hate

_**AUTHOR'S NOTE:**_ _**Shoutout, thanks and kudos to Lil'Griffin, whose feedback inspired me to re-frame my intended structure of the story in a way I think will work far better. Both Sammy and Susie naturally have some bad memories of one another, so why not start this whole thing off with a bang rather than a whisper?**_

Up on Level Nine, Alice Angel - or Susie Campbell, as she was once known - turned up her nose as she bobbed and weaved her way around the inky bodies scattered about the floor, her heels clicking on the floorboards like a tap dance.

These creatures really _were_ disgusting. Such a pity that she depended on them to maintain her perfection.

As she carefully balanced along beams and sidestepped holes to reach her work area, she hissed and muttered as she regarded the oozy black filth around her - until she spotted something that made her halt in her tracks.

Among the broken remains of cartoon clones, softly illuminated by candlelight, was the body of a man. A _very handsome_ man. His composure was peaceful, as if he was merely sleeping: no signs of a fight or a brutal end.

Intrigued, Susie-Alice approached the motionless figure, investigating it more closely. He was clasped in a crisp white shirt, his sand-coloured pants held up by matching braces. His build was muscular, but not overly so, and he was certainly fair of face... but the main attraction of his fine physique was the veritable mane of blond hair flowing down towards his shoulders.

As Susie-Alice reached out towards him, brushing her fingertips gently along his brow, she couldn't shake the feeling that she had seen him somewhere before. As she pondered this, looking deeply into his face, she slowly recalled a name.

 _Sammy. His name was Sammy._

The scene grew dark: the candle sharply snuffed out by some unseen force. When Susie-Alice turned to look at the figure again, she was horrified to discover she had her hand upon a failed Boris clone... thick black ink drooling onto her gloves. Shrieking, she kicked it away violently - then turned as she heard the rattle of the elevator approaching.

"Why, hello, Henry," she cooed, chuckling. "Coming back from where angels fear to tread?"

Her confidence turned to confusion as she saw that Henry was not alone. Stepping out of the elevator beside him was another of the foul ink creatures... only this one was very different. He was far taller, walked upright, and was well-built: a rather ridiculous mask of Bendy covering his face, and a strange, blotch-covered outfit of...

Sand-coloured pants. With matching braces.

 _No. No, it_ _couldn't_ _be..._

It seemed that her shock was mirrored by this strange creature - his head tilting as he looked at her, before he swiftly turned back to Henry.

"That's not her!" he gasped.

"It is!" Henry insisted. "Just in a different body. Please, you've _got_ to believe me!"

Slowly, the tall creature approached Susie-Alice, who found herself backing away slowly in fear. She would not allow that inky fiend to touch her. No way.

"Susie?" the monster asked cautiously. "Is... is that really you?"

 _That voice. She recognized it._

"Sammy!" she cried. "Sammy, it _is_ you in there!"

"Oh, God, Susie!" Sammy replied, almost weeping. "I've missed you so much. I - I would have come sooner, but I had no idea you were here."

"I didn't know about you, either!" came the reply. "I've been hiding up here, trying to avoid those... foul slugs of ink on the other floors."

As Henry watched the pair proudly, Susie-Alice sighed nostalgically.

"God, Sammy, it's been years," she went on. "I haven't seen you since..."

She stopped, mid-sentence, as she felt her body growing cold: pain and anxiety rising within her as a long-suppressed memory resurfaced.

"Since..."

It had happened one morning in the recording studio. Susie had wandered in merrily, feeling utterly fulfilled and walking on air... when she suddenly felt herself crashing down: her heart smashed into a million tiny pieces by the horrific sight that met her eyes.

Stood there at the microphone - her microphone - was that _bitch_ , Allison Pendle. Even worse, Sammy - the man she loved and trusted - was right there with her, smiling and gazing at her like a lovesick puppy as they ran through a script scene together.

 _Her_ scene. It should be _her_ in that booth, not that harlot.

When she'd confronted them, Sammy had given her the usual spiel - it wasn't what it looked like, it was an executive decision, all that crap. As Susie got angrier and angrier, Sammy's own frustration had grown, until he violently dropped the bombshell that, from now, the role of Alice Angel would be played by Miss Alison Pendle... words that chilled Susie's blood and shocked her into silence.

Sammy had tried to apologise, but Susie had refused to listen - instead storming off towards the break room in tears. But soon enough, her sadness was replaced by the twin forces of ambition and anger, and she knew only three things.

One: she _would_ get the role of Alice Angel back. She _was_ Alice Angel.

Two: she hated Allison Pendle.

And three: she really, really _despised_ Sammy Lawrence.

With a piercing screech, Susie-Alice lunged for Sammy violently, clasping her hands around his thin dark throat as she crudely attempted to throttle him. The ink that had drowned his frame leaked out onto her in floods, but in that moment, she really couldn't give a damn. She just wanted Sammy Lawrence dead.

As Sammy desperately tried to pull this demented harpy off him, Henry seized a cast-aside floorboard and charged towards them, striking Susie-Alice across the face and sending her spiraling across the room.

"Quick! Let's get out of here!"

Seizing Sammy's arm, Henry dragged him back to the safety of the elevator. As he closed the metal gate, with Sammy hastily pressing buttons to get them to any other floor as quickly as possible, Susie-Alice jumped to her feet and rushed at the rusted forcefield - grabbing the fretwork and screaming at the pair, vainly reaching for them with her nails ready to scratch as they ascended back into the hellish, inky depths below.

Once again, Susie-Alice was alone. Trembling, she fell to her knees - hearing the soft pitter-patter of inky tears dropping onto the floor as they rolled down her cheeks. Burying her face in her hands, she wailed in despair.

"Sammy... oh, _Sammy_..."

Meanwhile, in the elevator, Sammy fell back against the cage wall, sliding down defeated into a sitting position.

"That wasn't her," he told Henry sharply. "I _know_ it wasn't her. My Susie would _never_ have attacked me like that."

"Sammy, trust me, it's - "

"I don't care what you say!" Sammy snapped. "That is _not_ my angel!"

Groaning, he turned away.

"Take me back to my sanctuary," he ordered gruffly. "I must resume my daily worship of my Lord."

Sighing, Henry nodded - but then, the second Sammy wasn't looking, he pressed his head against the elevator control panel, fighting the urge to bash his brains out upon it and be done with it.

He had thought this was a sure thing. The perfect escape plan.

Now, he had an angel that was far from forgiving, and an prophet that didn't believe.

Somehow, Henry just knew that the next six days were going to feel like another thirty years. If he had even the slightest chance of still pulling this off... he was going to need some help.


	4. Laying a Love Trap

"Gee whiz, Henry - sounds like you got yourself in a real pickle."

After the long hours of traipsing through the hell on earth Joey Drew Studios had become, Henry was grateful for Boris and his little safehouse. Not only did it offer refuge from the the Ink Demon and his lackeys, but the toon wolf was fast becoming a good friend to Henry - offering him chats, company, and plentiful bowls of bacon soup. It was far from the finest fare in the world, but at least it was somewhat palatable, and more importantly, it would keep Henry alive... even if he now only had a matter of days left.

At the present moment, Henry was sat at Boris' small dining table, spooning the now-familiar brown substance into his mouth slowly - his mind deeply troubled. Boris, who had been informed of Henry's predicament some minutes prior, sat across from him, pondering the problem carefully.

"So Sammy and Susie were once in love?" Boris went on.

"Yes," Henry replied, after swallowing his latest mouthful.

"But now, they ain't in love no more?"

"I'd say that was the gist of it. Well, I think Sammy may still love Susie, but she wants nothing to do with him. And Susie, as she is now, isn't the one Sammy remembers. To be honest, after what happened today, I'd be afraid to leave them alone in a room together."

"Well," Boris replied, "why don't you just make them fall back in love again?"

Henry sighed, but smiled.

"Oh, if only things were that simple, Boris," he said wistfully. "It's not like they're cartoons whose plots I can create for them. Love is complicated - and the history between the two doesn't help. Let's face facts. I've _really_ screwed up here."

As Henry slurped up the last of his soup, Boris whimpered sadly in his sweet, puppy-like way.

"Shucks... it's gonna be hard saying goodbye to you, pal," he whispered. "But, if the date is set, then I guess I have to deal with it somehow."

As the wolf's words reached his ears, Henry's spoon dropped into the bowl with a clang as a light bulb turned on inside his head.

"What did you say?" he asked Boris hurriedly.

"I said, if the date is set -"

" _Date!_ " Henry cried, jumping up from his seat. "Boris, you're a genius!"

This revelation came as a great shock to his companion.

"Golly, Henry, what did I say?"

"Maybe there _is_ a way they could fall back in love!" Henry continued, excitedly.

Pulling out his chair, he moved it closer to his animated friend, and turned it around, sitting on it backwards as he revealed his new plan.

"Look," he began, "when two people like each other and think there might be a spark between them, how do they test the waters? They go on a date, right?"

"I... I guess so."

"Well, that's what Sammy and Susie did, way back when. Perhaps... if they were to go on a few dates together here and now... then they'd remember the good times they had, and give their relationship a second chance."

Boris considered this, and grinned.

"That's a great idea, Henry!" he replied, thrilled. "But what kind of things do people do on dates?"

"Oh, all sorts of things," Henry told him. "They go and get coffee, have a walk in the park, eat at a restaurant..."

As the aged animator reeled off the list of romantic activities, Boris' face fell.

"Well, how are they gonna do that?" he asked, concerned. "We can't leave the studio, Henry! And it's not like we have a park or a restaurant down here!"

As Henry glanced at his empty dish on the table, he chuckled.

"The hell we don't!" he replied. "Boris... have you got plenty of bacon soup left?"

"Sure I do, Henry. Why do you ask?"

"You'd better find some spare dishes," Henry went on. "Tonight, love will be on the menu..."

* * *

In a sheltered nook on Level Nine, Susie-Alice was busy applying a new layer of freshly collected ink to her ebony locks when she heard the elevator's echoing rattle once again.

 _Gee. Looks like Sammy Lawrence was coming back for round two._

Her patience having grown thin following the earlier incident, Susie-Alice slammed the lid back onto her collecting jar, checked her face in a broken looking-glass, and stormed out towards the arriving cage, prepared to give the former music director a piece of her mind.

She was shocked, then, to discover that, this time, Henry had come up alone.

"Oh, it's you again," she muttered. "What do you want?"

"Listen," Henry began. "About earlier -"

"I'd rather not discuss it," came the flat response.

"Look... Susie, Alice, whichever you prefer," Henry continued. "I really think things between you and Sammy started back up on the wrong foot - "

"That man _betrayed_ me!" Susie-Alice screeched back, turning away. "He will _never_ know how much he hurt me!"

"No!" Henry cried. "No, see - that's where you're wrong!"

The angel stopped. Intrigued, she looked back at Henry.

"What do you mean?"

"Sammy really _does_ know how much he upset you," Henry told her - putting on a performance that could have won him an Oscar. "The guilt's been eating away at him for years and years. He _longs_ for your forgiveness - the only reason he prays to Bendy so much is to try and gain the forgiveness you've denied him."

Susie-Alice cackled.

"Good," she said bluntly. "It's what he deserves."

"He understands why you reacted the way you did when he came up before. He was anticipating it. It took him all of his courage to come here."

"I guess he's not a complete moron, then."

"All he's asking for is one chance," Henry went on. " _One chance_ to try and make things up to you."

"He could never do that."

"Will you not let him _try_ , at least? If not for his sake, then for mine. For the sake of everyone in the Sillyvision crew back in the good old days. They all knew what a kind and loving person you were, Susie. You'd always take pity on those who needed it."

It seemed his sweet-talk was having an effect. Susie-Alice's cold demeanour appeared to be cracking - shuffling her weight from foot to foot as the animators' words washed over her.

"Just one chance, Susie. _Please_."

As she looked over and saw the longing stare in Henry's eyes, the angel groaned, and relented, waving a hand nonchalantly.

"All right," she hissed between gritted teeth. "What did he have in mind?"

"Dinner," Henry explained. "Down on Level K."

Susie-Alice's eyes widened as fear seized hold of her.

"Down... down there?" she gasped. "With those... _things_ crawling about?"

"I'll meet you at the elevator," Henry offered. "I'll escort you to the meeting point, and back again at the end of the night."

"You won't let that foul inky vermin touch my beautiful body?"

"No. You'll be completely safe. I promise."

As she considered this proposal carefully, Susie-Alice sighed, and nodded.

"All right, Henry," she muttered. "I'll give him one chance."

"Excellent. I'll meet you down there at 6."

* * *

Within his sanctuary, Sammy lay prostrated before the cut-out Bendy, rapidly muttering prayers under his breath - when he was suddenly jolted out of his religious fervour by the sound of strings being plucked and keys being hit beyond the concealed doorway.

 _Somebody_ was trying to get in.

Reaching for his dustpan - his faithful weapon - Sammy braced himself for an attack. As the door swung open, Sammy thundered towards it, dustpan raised in readiness... but then slid to a halt as he noticed a familiar face.

Tutting, he tossed the dustpan aside.

"Oh. Henry. It's you," he barked gruffly. "I told you before - I don't like having my prayers disturbed."

"Sorry, Sammy, but I figured this was urgent," Henry replied. "I have a message from Susie."

As he dropped to his knees before his Lord's cut-out image once more, Sammy shook his head violently.

"That _thing_ up there isn't Susie," he said authoritatively. "I told you _that_ before, as well."

"You're wrong, Sammy," Henry insisted. "Look, I know she upset you earlier. _She's_ upset, too. She's sat up there right now, heartbroken. She really is sorry she overreacted to your visit."

"She tried to kill me, Henry."

"Like I said, she overreacted."

He giggled.

"Women - am I right?"

Sammy scoffed, bowing down before his saviour.

"Look, look, look," Henry continued hurriedly. "The point is, she's calmed down, and she wants to make things up to you. She's invited you to dinner later."

Popping up like a meerkat, Sammy stared at him in shock.

"Dinner?" he said quizzically.

"Yeah. Up on Level K. It'll be just like old times, right?"

Sammy hesitated.

"I... I have evening prayers..."

"Oh, _come on_ , Sammy!" Henry hissed. "You worship Bendy all day, every day. I'm sure he knows how much you love him by know. I'm sure he'd be happy for you to take one night off to try and work things out with someone you care about."

Sammy was still reluctant.

"Well, I... I don't have anything to wear..."

Henry had dealt with enough crap since he'd arrived here. Some half-hearted excuses weren't going to stop him and his plans now.

"You look fine as you are," he said - lying through his teeth. "But, if you're really worried, I'm sure me and Boris can help you out. Look, Susie _really_ wants this chance to try and make things right. Shouldn't a good prophet show mercy to others?"

Slowly, Sammy stood up.

"Fine," he groaned. "I'll come to dinner. But you and Boris better make me look presentable."

"Not a problem," Henry replied. "Meet me on Level K at 5.30. By the time we're though, Sammy Lawrence, you'll look like a movie star."

* * *

Observing the scene through the eyes of Sammy's idol, the Ink Demon hissed, and leaned back on his throne in annoyance.

"So, _that's_ your game, is it, Henry?!" he roared. "You think if you make the circumstances right, you'll get those two back together? Well, not on my watch! This is one bet I am _not_ going to lose!"

With the toss of a paw, Joey hurled blobs of ink onto the floor below. As they landed, they raised themselves up, and took on the form of small, sluggish Searchers.

"Get yourselves to Level K, my little darlings," their creator purred. "Let's see if we can make the lovebirds lose their appetite..."


	5. Tonight We Dine in Lighter Side of Hell

As the clock rapidly ticked towards the eighteenth hour, things were frantic in the safehouse.

Boris rushed around the living space, hastily carrying cans of Bacon Soup towards the stove in order to whip up a meal. Meanwhile, Sammy and Henry were in the bedroom - the prophet sat quietly on the camp bed as the animator skillfully poured and brushed extra layers of ink onto his head, forming a bizarre, unique coiffure. Hanging from the hammock was an old jacket, likewise smeared in the black liquid to give it the appearance of a tuxedo - drops plinking onto the floor in small puddles as it dried.

Exhaling deeply, Henry stepped away from Sammy with a satisfied smile - placing the empty ink bottle aside, where it joined several others.

"There," he said. "That ought to do it."

Tentatively, Sammy reached up towards his head and neck. He could feel thick, semi-solid streaks of ink piled upon them, the sensation awakening some long-forgotten memories.

 _It had been like this before. Only... it was blond back then..._

Before Sammy had the chance to really dig his fingers into his new sludgy locks, Henry's own hands shot out, grasping his wrists gently.

"Don't - don't mess with it too much," he said hastily. "It might not stay in place otherwise. You want to look good for Susie, don't you?"

"Of course."

As Henry beheld his handiwork, he knew there was no chance of him rivaling the great Hollywood stylists. Yet, he remained strangely proud of it. If you ignored the colour, and maybe squinted a little - or a lot - it could _almost_ be mistaken for Sammy's old mane of locks, and he hoped the sight of it might revive some old memories in Susie.

"Come on," he told Sammy. "Get your tux on. I'll just go and get the finishing touch."

As Henry stepped outside, Sammy rose and retrieved the dripping jacket from the hammock: sliding it over his arms and onto his body with great care, feeling it slowly attach to his already ink-drenched form. As he turned to and fro examining himself, he smiled.

Not too bad at all.

As he looked up, he noticed Henry had returned - a strip of white material in his hands.

"Here," he said brightly. "I got this off one of the Bendy dolls. I'll tie it for you."

At first, Sammy began to panic as Henry wrapped the cloth strip around his throat... but then relaxed as he watched the aged animator tie it into a small, but neat, bow. Reaching up to touch it with his oozy fingers, Sammy beamed with pride.

"Just like my savior's," he remarked.

"Sure," Henry replied flatly. "If you like."

After he had escorted Sammy back to the kitchen - where Boris was setting up candles and bowls upon the table - he headed towards the large, vault-style door.

"I'll just go and pick up Susie," he said. "Wait here. And keep an eye out for Searchers - I don't want anything messing this up."

* * *

Inside the elevator, Susie-Alice tapped a foot impatiently as she awaited her escort. Just beyond the cage, she could see slimy Searchers and Lost Ones slithering around on the tarnished, cracked floorboards. As a sharp yell rang out from the end of the corridor, she stifled a shriek of horror - until Henry came into view, swinging a spanner wildly and smashing all the inky creatures in his wake, clearing a path.

"I've been waiting for you," Susie-Alice hissed.

"I know," Henry replied. "Sorry I'm a little late... had some trouble further down the hall. It's all taken care of now, though. Come on - Boris has started cooking already."

"You won't let those - those _things_ touch me?"

"No. You're totally safe. I promise."

Cautiously, Susie-Alice opened the elevator cage and stepped out on tiptoe. As Henry offered her his arm, she took it slowly, linking it in her own, and allowed the animator to lead her back towards the safehouse.

Every so often, Searchers would jump out at them as they walked, but Henry simply beat them away. Just as he'd promised, he never allowed them to touch Susie-Alice. After a while, the ink angel began to relax, and started to place her trust in her escort.

If he was willing to do all this just to get her to see Sammy... then maybe the musician _did_ deserve another chance, after all.

* * *

As Henry led Susie-Alice through the safehouse door, her eyes widened as they fell on the table in the kitchen nook.

Everything was dark, bar the light of a few flickering candles - creating a rather romantic atmosphere. Sat at the table in - some sort of ill-fashioned suit, by the looks of it - was Sammy Lawrence, only with... _something_ smeared on the top of his head to create a fake hairstyle.

It was almost laughable - and yet, strangely charming.

As Susie-Alice approached the table, it was impossible to tell if her date was smiling - his face still concealed by the mask. However, like a true gentleman, Sammy rose to his feet in her presence, and greeted her warmly.

"Good evening, Susie."

"Hello, Sammy. You're looking..."

A pause as she struggled to choose a fitting word.

"... smart."

"Thank you. Please, take a seat."

Rushing to the other side of the table, Sammy pulled out the second chair - pushing it back in slowly as Susie-Alice took her seat. Once Sammy had settled back into his own place, Boris smiled at the couple.

"Might I suggest the House Special?" he asked.

"And that is?" Susie-Alice probed.

"Bacon Soup."

The dates exchanged hesistant glances.

"What else have you got?" Sammy asked Boris.

"That's... pretty much it."

"I'm sure it's fine," Susie-Alice replied, sounding almost like her old self. "We'll take it."

As Boris scurried over to the stove, a heavy silence fell around the table. Clearing his throat nervously, Sammy decided that if anyone was going to get this ball rolling, it would have to be him.

"So," he began. "What have you been... up to?"

"Not much," Susie replied. "Just taking ink from other creatures to try and preserve my beauty. You?"

"Worshipping our Lord and Savior Bendy."

"Oh. I... I bet _that_ keeps you busy."

"Full-time job."

The two laughed, but it was so forced, you could feel the falseness digging into your flesh like talons.

A break in the horrifically awkward proceedings came as Henry laid two spoons onto the table, smiling politely at each guest in turn. However, even his grin had an artificial air. In his head, he was trying to be optimistic about the fact the pair hadn't tried to kill each other thus far, but deep down, he was begging them both to find their old spark. It was painful to watch them like this, like lost cartoon characters in need of a script. For his sake, they needed to get their act together, and fast.

Then, an idea.

As he helped Boris ladle the Bacon Soup into bowls, Henry started to hum a tune - quietly at first, but then increasing the volume when he noticed the lack of reaction. After another moment or two had passed, Susie-Alice's eyebrows shot upwards.

"Wait!" she cried. "I... I remember this song! _The Lighter Side of Hell_. It's... it's one of yours, Sammy, right?

Casting his mind back into the slowly-clearing haze of the studio's glory years, flashes of images - bass strings being plucked, piano keys being pushed - blazed across Sammy's mind, and he smiled.

"Yes!" he whispered, somewhat awed he could still recall it. "It... it was a duet. Written for Bendy and Alice Angel."

"You know," Susie-Alice said merrily, "I think I still remember the words."

Cautiously, the angel began to sing along with Henry's hummed melody - Sammy strumming his fingers on the table in time to the tune. Slowly, as her confidence grew, Susie-Alice's heavenly singing grew louder and louder: her beautiful voice unchanged by the long years, despite being trapped in a semi-demonic body. Occasionally, a lyric escaped her foggy memory, but it didn't break her stride: simply substituting in a "something" or a "da-da" as she carried on valiantly and proudly.

At first, Sammy simply listened to this performance in total adoration. Now _this_ was the Susie he remembered. Perhaps Henry _had_ been telling the truth, after all. Eventually, though, he found himself unable to resist, and he joined in with the singing, reciting the lyrics originally written for his savior - his own raspy voice creaking with unfamiliarity, due to being years out of practice, but soon growing in strength.

As the song came to an end, the couple turned their heads as they heard the sound of applause.

"Bravo!"

Once Henry had finished clapping, he brought the bowls over to the table, as Susie-Alice and Sammy hung their heads sheepishly.

"Oh, come now!" Henry said brightly. "No need to be embarrassed - that was a marvellous performance. Anyway... dinner is served. _Bon appetit!_ "

As Sammy looked into the murky brown liquid placed before him, it didn't exactly get his ol' tastebuds tingling. Still, nothing ventured, nothing gained. Picking up his spoon, he scooped up a mouthful of the soup, and tasted it tentatively.

Not the best thing he'd tasted. Far from it. Still, it was palatable, at least.

After watching Sammy's reaction, Susie-Alice allowed herself to relax. She had likewise dreaded having to taste the offered cuisine, but her date appeared to be eating with no ill effects. Reassured, she started on her own meal.

For a few moments, the pair simply ate together in an amiable warm silence. Sammy's happiness, by far, was the more genuine.

 _Yes... he remembered now. This was how it all began. A little while after he'd started working with Susie, he'd invited her to join him at his table at lunch - an offer she'd accepted. After that, it became a daily routine. How he'd loved chatting away to her, sharing jokes with her... the time flying by so quickly, they often clocked back in a little later than they should have._ _Then, after a month or so... he'd suggested lunch should progress to dinner._

 _They'd gone to a little bistro downtown. Candlelight and music, rather like tonight - only with better food. It had been perfect._

 _Their first date._

 _Wait -_ _first_ _date? Had there been more?_

Suddenly, Susie-Alice froze in horror as she spotted something in her bowl. A _black, slug-like_ something.

Just as Sammy was slowly bringing himself out of his happy memories, he suddenly found himself soaking wet: covered in the contents of Susie's bowl, his new inked hairdo melting away. The angel had emitted an almighty shriek: leaping to her feet and pushing the table over in alarm.

As Henry prepared to rush over, he spotted the cause of Susie-Alice's distress.

A group of tiny, ink-filled Searchers, crawling their way across the floorboards from within the remnants of the china bowl.

 _Damn it! They must have crawled in when he and Boris were distracted._

Seizing the ladle, Henry violently smashed the creatures into oblivion. Then, he turned his attention back to the terrified woman. Her eyes had narrowed, and she was pointed an accusing finger at her host.

"You... you tried to poison me!" she hissed. "Those... those creatures! They were going to destroy me from the inside! This whole thing was a trap!"

"No!" Henry cried in protest. "No, I swear - I didn't know they were in there!"

"Then _he_ did it!" Susie-Alice shrieked, turning to Sammy. "I _knew_ he didn't deserve another chance!"

Sammy said nothing. He looked a miserable and pathetic sight: sat low in his chair as a mixture of ink and soup dripped from his body. Even when Susie-Alice leaned into his face furiously - fangs bared, her full monstrosity on show - he didn't move an inch.

"Don't you ever show your face on Level Nine again!" Susie-Alice snapped at the musician. Then, after walking over to the ladle and snatching it up - smashing the limited remains of the Searchers for good measure - she stormed out of the safehouse: now armed and ready to protect herself from any inky predators, rather than placing any further trust in the animator.

Sighing heavily, Henry collected up the shatter fragments of the bowl, then walked up to the dejected Sammy - who still hadn't budged from his chair.

"I'm so sorry, Sammy," he said. "I swear to God, if I'd known - "

Sammy swiftly raised his hand - indicating to his host that he should stop speaking.

"It really _is_ my angel, isn't it?" he asked, heartbroken. "She's still there, somewhere inside that... _monster_."

"Yes," Henry told him. "Yes, I'm afraid so."

Slowly, Sammy got to his feet.

"I was wrong to place my faith in you," he said flatly. "If my Susie is trapped inside that... that _thing_ , then the only being left with the power to save her is my Lord."

"Sammy, _please..._ I promise you, if you just -"

" _No_ ," Sammy barked. "No more. You are but a human. My Lord is divine."

Jerking his shoulders, he allowed the tuxedo jacket to slide of his body, sending it tumbling to the floor with a thud. Next, he snatched the bow tie from around his neck, casting it downwards, then headed towards the exit. Hovering in the doorway, he turned back towards the animator and his wolf companion.

"Thank you," he added weakly. "For everything you have tried to do."

Shoulders slumped, and his spirits broken, he made his way out.

As Boris went to find some cleaning supplies, Henry stood the table back up, straightened up the chairs, and then sat himself down - burying his head in his hands as he contemplated the situation. When Boris returned, he noticed his friend's sadness, but decided it was best to give him some space, and busied himself with mopping up soup puddles instead.

Desperately, the animator racked his brain for positive points about the date's events. Well... Sammy appeared to have remembered Susie more clearly, and now knew for sure that she was somewhere inside Alice. _That_ was progress, at least.

But, on the other hand, it was highly unlikely Susie would ever trust him or Sammy enough again to try and continue the courtship. They were back at square one there - or possibly even square zero. He swore he could hear the Ink Demon cackling inside his head.

If this was a movie, this would be the end of the first act. It would take hard work, and some clever planning, to still get to the happy ending.

 _A movie..._

Henry lifted his head slowly. Perhaps a second date wasn't out of the question, after all. He'd just have to reel in another old friend for help - pun probably intended. They wouldn't exactly be a willing participant, but given that death was Henry's only other option, he wasn't afraid of going down to the dark places to seek him out...


	6. Sent Reeling Into the Past

On Level 11, the hallways were deathly dark. Almost as black as the oozing ink itself... except for one small but sharp light that blazed out like a beacon.

It moved to a soft, slow, screeching soundtrack.

As he had done every night for decades, the Projectionist patrolled the corridors for any signs of intruders... be they those gargantuan ink slugs leaving their black trails along the floorboards, or something, or _someone,_ even more sinister.

Nobody was welcome here. The Ink Prophet had his sanctuary. _This_ was _his._

Suddenly, his projector head was sent spinning at the distant sound of metal striking the floor. A dropped weapon, perhaps, or else a triggered trap. Tensing himself up for what would surely be a battle, the Projectionist shuffled along through rivers of ink in its direction... before feeling himself crumbling under the weight of a human being, who had charged at him violently with a mighty roar.

Hissing and screaming in his horrifying, wordless way, the Projectionist flailed frantically against his assailant, desperate to shake him off. Henry, however, fought back valiantly, as thought his life depending on it... which, technically, it did, and in more ways than one.

For a moment, Henry allowed his thoughts to pass to Boris, who had created the distraction elsewhere on Level 11 to give him this vital chance. He hoped he was safe. Then, just as swiftly, he regained his focus. Now wasn't the time to worry about his cartoon friend. With monumental effort, Henry pinned the screaming Projectionist down – and found himself looking directly into the laser-like lens.

"Norman!"

It was more of a gasp than shout, caused by a lack of breath from their energetic battle. Still, it was enough. Confused, the Projectionist fell silent, and craned himself upwards to focus further on this intruder. The face was somewhat familiar. His confidence growing, Henry managed a weak smile.

"Norman Polk... it _is_ you in there, isn't it? You remember me, don't you? It's Henry... Henry Stein. The animator. I worked here, at the studio - years ago. Remember?

Inside the Projectionist's head, a reel began spinning. Henry vanished from his sight. Instead, his lens was filled with flickering black-and-white images from... another time. A time before this.

The _happier_ time.

On this faded film, people were all about the place. They moved around merrily, busying themselves with various tasks: drawing at desks, playing musical instruments, singing or speaking at microphones. And there was he, in a booth above it all, with a bird's eye view: reels of film in his hands as he loaded them faithfully into the projector beside him.

Wait... those were _his_ hands? They didn't seem like them. Compared to those around him, they were still of a darker shade – but not with ink. This was just a different skin tone, but every bit as natural. As perfect. As beautiful. These were human hands, like those of the others.

The film ended with a sharp, sudden click. Trembling, Norman Polk looked up towards his arms – pinned by Henry to the ground above his head. As he flexed a wrist curiously, the animator released his grasp, allowing the projectionist to raise a hand up to his lens. The perfectly formed digits were gone - replaced by an oily, oozing set of talons.

As the shocking truth of his transformation slowly dawned upon him, Norman let the arm drop back down with a weighty, mindless movement... and let out a desperate scream.

Henry realised at once what had happened. Jumping off of Norman, he grabbed the projectionist's arms and pulled him up gently into a comforting embrace... which his old colleague fell into without resistance. Henry shushed him and rocked him gently, as a father might soothe their crying child.

"It's all right, Norman," he whispered. "It's all right. I'm going to get you out of here. Everything is going to be as it was before. But... I need your help."

Intrigued, Norman pulled back, and lifted his lens into Henry's face – the light momentarily flickering, almost like a confused blink.

"It's about Susie," Henry went on. "Susie Campbell. And Sammy Lawrence. You remember them, don't you?"

The film reeled through Norman's lens in fast-forward, freezing on one frame. A beautiful lady, singing at the microphone with angelic tones, and a tall man with long fair hair standing beside her, sheet music underarm, watching with fascination: like a temple priest admiring the statue of his goddess.

Turning back to Henry, he nodded.

"Good," Henry said. "I just need to know one thing. That reel in your head..."

Norman pointed to it naively, as if to say _"What, this?"_. Henry stifled a giggle.

"Can... can you change it?"

* * *

As he reached yet another crossroads in the maze of studio corridors, Boris skidded to a halt – panting not from lack of breath, but out of sheer terror. He risked a quick glance to the folded-in arm by his side... confirming that the Bendy cut-out he had stolen moments ago was still there.

The sound of hasty, angry footfall and mumbled shouting drew ever closer behind him. Sammy Lawrence was hot on his heels... and from the sound of it, pretty hot-headed, too. Having his deity stolen clearly wasn't something he'd let Boris off for with a slap of the wrist.

There was no time to lose if Boris wanted to keep his incredibly important lead. Panicking, he picked a direction at random and kept on running, praying to his creator – the great Joey – that he had chosen wisely.

Meanwhile, Henry was also dealing with the consequences of stealing. He desperately tried to keep his nerve as he huddled in the corner of the cage elevator as it raced to the Music Department – one of several failed clone Borises laid across his lap, akin to La Pietà. The sparks bursting forth from the elevator's sides during its sudden descent was most unnerving.. but not as much as the sight of the furious Susie-Alice, coming along for the ride... stomping on the elevator roof in a demented dance, screaming with banshee-like wails and scratching at the metal with clawed hands, all too eager to tear Henry to pieces.

Scenes like this had become familiar to the old animator in recent times, but it remained truly terrifying. It made the journey seems like a descent into Hell... or possibly like that famous theme park ride he would have liked to check out once, if Joey hadn't have been likely to fire him for supporting a rival studio.

As the elevator reached its destination, Henry dashed out like a greyhound fleeing a trap, dragging along his ill-gotten gains – the hellish angel pursuing relentlessly.

As Boris turned into yet another corridor, he sighed with relief to see Henry there, running towards him from the other end. Too out of breath to speak, the animator hastily pointed to a door, signally for Boris to enter. The cartoon wolf did so all too willingly, with the older man soon following. Slamming the door behind them, the pair dropped their loot, and raced towards a nearby staircase – both near collapsing as they clambered up to the projection booth, where Norman was ready and waiting.

The door below burst open like an explosion, and both the Ink Prophet and fallen angel pounced inside in rage, like ravenous lions hunting their prey. Taking his cue, Norman pointed his lens at the large screen in the room below, and set the reel running with a click.

As light beamed forth onto the wall beside them, Sammy and Susie-Alice both turned their heads out of sheer instinct. Shadows swiftly turned into the shapes of cartoon characters, frolicking and falling about for their amusement. From deep within them, distant feelings of contentment began to rise up.

Slowly, Sammy ventured into the centre of the room, never once taking his eyes off the film – which, in his former life, he would have instantly recognised as _Sheep Songs_. He sat down on the stained floor, crossed-legged, like a schoolchild on the story time rug, and looked up at it with fascination... occasionally daring to let out a laugh as he watched his beloved Lord's foolish antics. Surely it was a form of worship, and not blasphemy?

Equally transfixed, Susie-Alice walked up beside him, and joined him on the floor, calm and relaxed. It was only after a few more moments' viewing that the cartoon was replaced by memories.

 _She and Sammy had done this before. During the studio's test screenings of the latest Bendy cartoons, they had always sat together – chuckling like children at the funny parts. Whenever Alice Angel sang out in her heavenly tones, Sammy had squeezed her hand: forbidden to talk during the screening, but wanting to express his admiration._

 _He'd held her hand even longer, even more tenderly, on their second date. That had taken place in a proper movie theatre, where they'd watched the latest Hollywood love story. All the while, their own was beginning to play out._

Turning to Sammy, Susie-Alice saw that he was reliving the same memory she was. The giveaway was the fact that he was absent-mindedly chewing, despite having nothing in his mouth. At least, Susie-Alice _hoped_ that was the case... God forbid he'd picked something up off this filthy floor without thinking. That night, he'd had popcorn. Susie had had to suppress her laughter at the sound of him munching it a little too loudly for the situation, not wanting to embarrass him.

As the cartoon played on, Susie-Alice slipped back into the memory herself – reaching a hand into a popcorn bucket that was no longer there. As he did so, Sammy's own hand brushed against hers.

Neither figure screamed, or shouted, or pulled away. Instead, with their eyes never leaving the screen, Sammy simply interlocked his fingers with Susie-Alice's softly, bringing their hands to rest in his lap. As Susie-Alice started to sing along to the sound of her own voice, the inky prophet's grasp grew tighter... but never too tight to do her harm. Only enough to show love.

As Henry witnessed the scene unfolding through the flicker of Norman's lens light, he could physically feel the weight of pressure lifting off his shoulders. This was _good_. This was _regression_ , and as contradictory as it seemed, out of that came _progress_.

By the time Henry spotted the Ink Demon's inky slug servants slithering up Norman's body, it was already too late. The vile pests had thrown themselves into the reel of his projector cranium... causing it to burst into flame. Sammy and Susie-Alice watched in confusion as the cartoon crackled and burnt away into blank whiteness, whilst in the booth above them, Norman Polk clawed at his mechanical head, gyrating in agony as he emitted a harsh, screeching wail.

Spotting an old fire extinguisher on the wall, Henry seized it frantically, hoping against hope that it still worked. Thankfully, it did. With a rushing gush of water, the flames were put out: the last remaining traces of the slimy invaders washed away.

Exhausted and traumatised, Norman felt his knees buckling, and he fell to the floor like a collapsing mannequin. His screaming had been replaced with soft but constant croaks... almost like sobs. In an instant Henry and Boris were both kneeling beside him – the wolf's paws on Norman's shoulders in a strong gesture of support.

"It's OK, pal," he said kindly. "You did a great job."

Norman turned to Henry, still seeking reassurance. As the animator nodded in agreement. The projectionist released a soft, sigh-like noise, and slumped into a restful pose.

"Put his old reel back in," Henry told Boris. "I need to go check on those two downstairs."

As Boris' paws awkwardly fumbled through the numerous film reels scattered around the booth, Henry raced back down the stairwell as fast as his feet could take him.

* * *

Upon his arrival in the screening room, Henry was met by the peaceful, pleasurable sight of Sammy and Susie-Alice, still sat together, their hands still joined – looking deeply, and somewhat shyly, into one another's eyes.

He tried to creep away, wanting to leave the two alone to rekindle their love... only to be betrayed by the creak of a aged floorboard. Shocked, Susie-Alice's head whirled around to glare at him – her nostalgic contentment replaced by outrage at Henry's recent crimes against her. Spotting the broken clone Boris in a corner, she jumped to her feet and stormed towards it, awkwardly scooping it up into her slender arms.

"Susie?"

The dark angel looked back into the centre of the room. The confused cry had come from Sammy's mouth. The musician hadn't moved from the spot: his mind trapped somewhere between past and present. He simply sat there with a deflated air, looking towards his old paramour. Although his face was hidden by a mask, Susie-Alice couldn't help but feel that his gaze was one of longing and pity.

A look of love.

Clearly, Sammy had no memory of the wrong he had done to her. Susie-Alice, however, did. She knew all too well. She wasn't going to get hurt again. Not by him. Not by _anyone_. She would achieve _perfection._

 _So why did she want to stay here with him so badly?_

Blinking back tears, Susie-Alice drew the clone Boris even closer to herself, and strolled out of the room – turning her back on both Henry and Sammy without a word.

It was some time before Sammy rose from the floor. Even then, the movement seemed automatic rather than an act of will. As though he were unable to think for himself, he went back immediately to his old routine. Picking up the Bendy cut-out, he stood it up against the wall, and bowed down before it, offering prayers.

Henry prepared to walk away and leave him to it, until the Prophet's frantic words reached his ears.

"Bring her back to me, Lord. Please... _please_... _bring her back to me._ "

Sensing the shadow that was being cast over him, Sammy rose from his grovelling posture, and looked up. Standing there between him and the likeness of his god was Henry, who was looking at him with a firm, stoic expression.

"Bendy can't win back Susie's love, Sammy," he said matter-of-factly. "The only being who can is you."

As he allowed the animator's words to sink in, Sammy sighed deeply.

"What am I going to do?"

It seemed one Messiah had been replaced with another. Just as God reached out to Adam on the Sistine Chapel ceiling, Henry confidently outstretched his hand towards Sammy. Behind him, Boris appeared at the bottom at the stairwell leading up to the projection booth – muttering something about Norman... whoever _he_ was... feeling much better, but wanting to stay put among his reels for a while.

"Maybe Bendy can't help you," Henry told Sammy, "but _I_ certainly can."

As Sammy took his hand, Henry helped him to his feet, and led him and Boris back towards the hideout. The Bendy cut-out, meanwhile, was left alone - abandoned to the ink, the dust and the darkness.

It had served its purpose. Now, the prophet's faith came from elsewhere.


	7. Not Quite the Happiest Place on Earth

Trying to do anything under a time limit was stressful – any employee of Joey Drew Studios could have told you that. However, when the days remaining were also potentially your final days of human existence, it was fair to say that glugging down coffee and puffing some cigarettes weren't really going to take the edge off. Besides, down here in this inky hell, Henry had neither.

His nerves were frayed to their very limits, therefore, when the following day after the movie date, Susie-Alice didn't want to be found – and not for lack of trying on her suitor's or his companions' part. It didn't matter who ventured up to Level Nine: Sammy, Henry or even Boris. The angel always stayed silently out of sight, refusing to emerge... or even have a conversation across the dark hallways.

Desperate times called for desperate measures. The safehouse became a war bunker as the three men huddled around the table, discussing various plots and plans to flush their target out. It took them all night, but that was of no consequence. They were fuelled by a will to live, a will to _love_ , and Bacon Soup respectively.

By midday on the fourth day – or at least, that's what it felt like, it was hard to be sure down here - Sammy had settled on a Trojan Horse approach. Scurrying down to Shawn Flynn's old workroom, he helped himself to an Alice Angel doll, perfectly painted, before heading to the elevator. He would leave out this love token near Susie-Alice's lair with a little note attached (song lyrics, hinting at his hopes for a swift reunion), before camping himself in a dark corner, waiting to see if she took the bait.

After fifteen minutes, no-one had moved: Sammy, Susie-Alice, or the gift. The musician's focus was intense... until the terrifying moment when the floorboards collapsed beneath him, almost causing him to jump out of his ink-clad frame. By the time he had clambered to safety and turned his attention back to the doll, it was gone. The only clue it had been there were little scraps of paper, all scattered around. Clearly, his new melody wasn't a hit with his beloved.

Dejected, the scout headed back to his headquarters to give the captain his report.

 _He'd lost the battle. Was there any chance he could still win the war?_

* * *

Within the safety and isolation of her hiding-place, Susie-Alice cuddled the doll to her chest in a childish embrace – rocking back and forth as her mind swirled with conflicting thoughts.

Part of her wanted to go out there: to talk to Sammy, to go somewhere with him - one of the few pleasant places this hellhole had to offer – and have a good time, just like before. She had long believed that her heart had become as black as the ink surrounding her, but now, deep within herself, feelings that she had long considered dead and gone were resurfacing.

 _Somehow, after all this time, despite everything that had happened... she was still in love with Sammy Lawrence._

Yet, whenever she contemplated this notion, the starker, stronger memories would hit her like a truck. Sammy had betrayed her. The tears she had wept that fateful day, when she saw that bitch Pendle in the recording booth, were not just for her lost role... but for her broken heart.

Even if the matter was beyond Sammy's control... well, if he _had_ cared, then surely he would have _said_ something? _Done_ something? Refused to have any further part in Joey's schemes? But no. Instead, he'd just stood there, staring at the whore with a silly smile on his face... and when she'd confronted him, he'd snapped back at her. It had been too much for her to bear. Struggling to keep her composure, she'd hurried out of the recording studio to the privacy of the women's bathroom, where she could break down freely, knowing she had denied both Sammy and his slut the pleasure of seeing her do so.

Before she could contemplate the subject further, Susie-Alice felt a chill run up her spine as she spotted some dark, slimy creature in the corner of her eye. As it slithered forward, it rose up slowly... revealing itself to be a Swollen Searcher.

 _No. Not here. This was her place of perfection. Those vermin weren't permitted to spoil it._

Trembling with panic, Susie-Alice tossed the doll aside, and flailed about blindly for a weapon - but there was nothing around her but empty darkness and inky puddles. The latter was useless to her, but highly beneficial to her foe: it dove through and between them seamlessly as it ventured ever closer to her, like a salmon swimming upstream.

" _Stop!_ " Susie-Alice screamed. "Stay away from me!"

The creature was deaf to any pleas. As a droopy dark appendage reached out dangerously close to Susie-Alice's foot, she leaped upwards, kicked it away violently, and started to run.

She had no idea where she was headed: only that she wanted to get away from that foul slug of a being, which was giving chase at great speed. Looking up, she suddenly spotted the miraculous sight of the elevator arriving on the floor... the opening doors beckoning to her like a portal to heaven.

Without a moment's hesitation, Susie-Alice dashed inside, pressing buttons wildly as she prayed for the cage door to close. But it was too late. The Searcher reared back, bracing itself to pounce in and absorb her...

...before it fell away, squealing, as a streak of silver flew over Susie-Alice's shoulder - missing it by mere inches, but having done enough to scare it off.

"Huh," remarked Sammy Lawrence, resting his axe on his shoulder nonchalantly. "I thought he'd put up more of a fight."

The door finally closed, and the elevator set off with a slow rattle. As Susie-Alice tried to steady herself on her still-trembling legs, resting a hand on the button panel for support, Sammy loitered coolly in the back corner... his mask raised slightly to reveal a confident smirk.

"Going my way, Miss Campbell?" he purred.

"Angel," Susie-Alice hissed, correcting him bluntly. "And I doubt it. The first stop's mine."

"Oh, come, now!" Sammy laughed. "It's not like you need to be somewhere. You're stuck in this ink-riddled cesspit, just like the rest of us. Besides, I think you owe me a favour."

Groaning, Susie-Alice relented.

"What did you have in mind?" she asked, the irritation clear in her voice.

"Another date," Sammy replied. "Right here, right now. They say the Bendy Land stuff in storage 9 is pretty fun."

"Let me guess," Susie-Alice chuckled. "Henry and Boris will be manning the stalls, pretending they're not spying on us?"

"Nope," Sammy told her confidently. "Just you and me. I mean, _come on_... we're the only ones in here, aren't we? How will _they_ know where we're heading to?"

His grin widened mischievously. Much to Susie-Alice's surprise, she found herself smiling back.

"I lost the Alice doll," she remarked. "You'd better win me a new one while we're there."

"No problem."

Meanwhile, up in the safehouse, Henry handed the Swollen Searcher back his hat... plus a couple of cans of Bacon Soup for his trouble.

"Nice work, Jack."

With a bob of his bowler, Jack Fain slithered back to his sewer sanctuary.

* * *

As they ventured through the former gates of Bendy Land, Sammy reached back for Susie-Alice's hand - leading her along as through they were two love-sick teenagers.

True to his word, at the Bottle Wallop, Sammy deftly knocked down all three stacks, before jumping over the stall and helping himself to his prize – a new Alice doll. He handed it over to the life-size version without saying a word, but with a soft smile that spoke for itself.

Susie-Alice did her best to hide the fact that she was impressed, but Sammy's encore at the Strength Tester caught her off-guard. As Sammy brought down the hammer in one swift, forceful movement, striking the bell immediately, seeing the twitching of his muscles made his date's heart flutter. Despite his body essentially being an ink-clad sarcophagus, Sammy had retained the athletic physique of his human self. In fact, Susie-Alice was sure his muscles had _grown_ slightly: decades of fighting off Searchers and other fiends would do that to a person, one would assume.

As she was led towards an octopus ride, Susie-Alice watched her companion in confusion as he raised a hand to his mouth to call out.

"Hey, Bertrum!"

The angel's eyes grew wider as a loud, low groan rose out of nowhere, before the machine took on a life of its own: shaking and stretching like its animal namesake, before settling into stillness again. Before Susie-Alice had a chance to question this, a panel opened - revealing a giant human head, whose beachball-sized eyes rested firmly on the couple.

"Ah!" boomed a familiar voice, jovially. "Hello there, Samuel! I'm guessing you and the young lady would care for a ride?"

"If it's no trouble?"

"Not at all! Climb aboard!"

As Susie-Alice thanked Mr. Piedmont kindly, Sammy helped her into one of the carriages, before settling in beside her, and locking them in securely.

"Ready, you two?" Bertrum called. "Here we go!"

As music blared and the machine whirled around, Sammy and Susie both found themselves laughing giddily. Neither one was sure it was sheer dizziness... or the joy at the being in the company of the other.

 _It was just like their trip to Coney Island._

As Bertrum whipped his guests to and fro, giving them words of encouragement, thick, black streaks of ink quickly rose up his metallic frame. As he suddenly felt it seeping into his electrical circuits, a wave of panic washed over him.

"You two!" he yelled. "Quick! Get -"

He lost all power, sharply silencing him. With a blinding flash, the light bulbs surrounding the ride went out in unison – sending the warehouse into darkness.

As their ride jolted to a sudden halt, Susie-Alice screamed in alarm. She pushed at the security bar frantically, but it wouldn't budge.

She and Sammy were trapped.

As the musical director placed his hands on her shoulders, calming her and reassuring her, both of them stared in horror as the inky flood began to rise up in front of them: taking on a familiar, terrifying, _demonic_ form.

"My... my Lord?" Sammy asked, astounded.

"No," Susie-Alice croaked, horrified. "It's Joey."

"Hey there, you two lovebirds!" the Ink Demon cooed, perching himself atop the front of their carriage like a monkey clinging onto a branch. The toxic, mocking tones dripped from his words like the black liquid from his body. "How are the dates going, hmm?"

The pair said nothing - too frightened to reply.

"I must admit, Susie," Joey went on, "I'm surprised you agreed to go out with Sammy again in the first place. I mean, after all... he _did_ screw you over, didn't he? For that Pendle woman."

As the nightmarish memory was dragged up yet again, Susie-Alice turned her head sharply, not wanting Sammy to see her tears.

 _Just like before._

However, the gesture was telling enough to her partner to evoke an impassioned response.

"No!" Sammy protested. " _No_ , Joey, it wasn't like that! _You_ wanted Pendle to play Alice, not me! I _told_ you no other voice would be better than Susie's, but you wouldn't listen! You said you'd fire us _both_ if I didn't agree! How could I let you do that to her?"

As she heard Sammy's words, Susie turned to him – her heart skipping a beat. Amazed, she reached for his hand, interlocking their fingers once more... as they had done so often in the past to show their affection.

"Is... is that true, Sammy?" she asked, not quite able to believe it. "You... you wanted _me_ to be Alice, not Allison?"

" _Of course_ I did!" Sammy replied. "You _are_ Alice Angel - only a fool would think otherwise!"

"Then why... why did you smile at her like that?"

"Thomas Connor was at the session," Sammy explained. "He was at the back of the room – you mustn't have noticed him. Allison was his girlfriend. I wanted to make sure I came across as friendly, so he wouldn't get angry at me. Maybe I overdid it, but I was playing it safe."

He nodded towards Joey.

"I'd had enough trouble from _him_ that day already."

He sighed.

"Look, I'll admit Allison had some talent. More so than I expected – it took me pleasantly by surprise. But believe me, Susie... she could _never_ hold a candle to you."

As she heard this, any traces of hatred or anger that Susie-Alice still had towards Sammy faded away for good. Moving closer to him, she brought her head to rest on her shoulder contentedly.

"Well, well, well... isn't that nice?" Joey cackled sarcastically. "It's always wonderful when these little messes are cleared up. So, Sammy really _is_ in love with you – that's good to know, right?"

His mouth spread in a grin that could rival the Cheshire Cat.

"Although," he went on, "that never stopped you from going to dinner with _me_ , did it?"

Susie-Alice sat bolt upright... the smile quickly fading from her face. As she hung her head sheepishly, Sammy developed an uneasy feeling in his stomach.

"Susie?" he probed. "What's he talking about?"

"Oh, didn't she tell you?" Joey said, with a air too light for the situation. "That's how she got to be Alice Angel in the first place. By going out with me. I mean, she _was_ datin' _you_ at the time, Sammy, but... well, you just wanted that part so damn bad, didn't you, Susie, dear?"

Susie-Alice made no reply.

"And I'll tell you somethin' else," Joey chuckled sinisterly. "It didn't stop at _dinner_ , either."

" _LIAR!_ " Susie-Alice screamed, lashing out at the Ink Demon furiously.

With a shriek of villainous ecstasy, Joey vanished into thin air. As Bertrum's light bulbs turned back on and the music played, Sammy sat still in the carriage, looking down at his hands – his silence sharper than his axe blade.

"Sammy," Susie-Alice coaxed, reaching out towards him, "Sammy, I _swear,_ I _didn't_ \- "

She tried to cup his cheek in her hands, but he pushed her away. Raising the security bar, he jumped down from the ride, and stormed towards the warehouse exit and beyond.

Susie-Alice pursued him all the way, pleading and begging hysterically, but Sammy paid her no heed. His stride was too fast for her to catch up. When she finally joined him at the elevator, Sammy clanged the cage door shut in her face, and began his ascent.

"Sammy!" Susie-Alice screamed. " _Sammy, wait!_ "

The elevator didn't stop. As she watched Sammy rise up and out of her sight, Susie-Alice prayed he would see through Joey's lies, and come back to her.

The seconds turned to minutes. He didn't return.

For some time, Susie-Alice beat her hands on the cage door passionately, still screaming and begging, mindlessly. She was in no state to know what else to do.

Finally, exhausted and broken, she fell silent.

Sinking to her knees, she wept bitterly – a streak of ink staining her cheek as it flowed from her one sole, closed eye.


	8. Say That Love Has Sinned

From the second Sammy marched into the safehouse, Henry knew something had gone wrong. He could _feel_ the waves of rage being emitted from his ex-colleague's inky body. The prophet said nothing to him, nor Boris - he simply swept into the back room, rummaged around for some time, and emerged with a Bendy cut-out under arm.

As he headed for the door, Henry blocked his path - arms spread out like a scarecrow.

"Sammy? he asked, bemused. "What's going on? What have you got _that_ for?"

"I'm going to my sanctuary to pray," came the blunt response.

Henry rolled his eyes in frustration.

"I _told_ you - Bendy can't help you. He's a _cartoon_ , Sammy. You can't put your trust in - "

" _Trust?_ " Sammy spluttered, almost laughing. "I'll _tell_ you who I can't trust. Susie Campbell."

Henry's blood ran cold - freezing him to the spot, as still as Sammy's precious cutout.

"What the hell happened?" he rasped - the shock robbing him of his breath.

"Ask Joey Drew."

" _Joey?_ " Henry shrieked. "Sammy - wait - _surely_ you don't -"

Sammy pushed him aside, as if _he_ was the door, and went on his way.

Still stunned, Henry slowly made his way back to the dining table, and practically plummeted into a chair.

Boris, sensing his fear, immediately took a seat beside him - watching as Henry's hands balled up tightly into fists.

"Drew," Henry seethed.

"What did you say, pal?"

 _"Joey Drew, you fucking bastard!"_

Boris dove out of his seat, terrified, as Henry pushed the table over in outrage - his fear and frustrations released in one long roar.

Silence followed - except for the heavy breaths of the animator. As the aged man regained his senses, he sank back down into his chair, burying his face in his hands... sobbing.

"Two days," he wheezed. "That's not enough time to fix this. I'm as good as dead, Boris. No... I'd be _better off_ dead. Anything is better than what that monster has in store for me."

Approaching his dear friend, the wolf wrapped his arms around him in a comforting embrace, and let out a puppy-like whimper.

Near the safehouse door, a puddle of ink solidified, and slid away unnoticed.

* * *

Susie-Alice couldn't quite bring herself to take the elevator. With a stiff, slow stagger - almost zombie-like - she made her way through the labyrinth of corridors and production rooms, longing to get back to the safety and solitude of Level Nine. She was still unarmed - but at this point, she didn't care if the Searchers or Lost Ones took hold of her. Death was better than a life without hope.

 _She wouldn't die, of course. She'd just be reborn from the inkwells, ad infinitum. Suffering through a thousand lifetimes, with no hope or relief or redemption._

Despite being resigned to her fate, the sight of a Searcher hastily sliding across the hall in front on her was still enough to stop Susie-Alice in her tracks. As she watched it retake its blobby, bloated form, she conjured up a weak smile.

"It's OK," she whispered. "Destroy me. I'm not afraid of that any more."

At the top of the sluggish being, the ink rolled away to reveal a bowler hat. As the rather dapper Searcher greeted Susie-Alice with a doff of its headgear, the angel couldn't shake the feeling that he was very familiar. After a few moments, a name reached the tip of her tongue.

"Jack Fain?"

The creature bowed politely – a wordless confirmation.

"Jack," Susie-Alice gasped. "It's been years. What are you doing here? Were you looking for me?"

Jack nodded, before reaching an inky tentacle up for his hat. In an extravagant mime, he held it over his face like a mask – thrashing another appendage around like a sword fighter.

 _Or an axe-wielder._

"Sammy?" Susie-Alice asked, her tone growing brighter. "You're here because of Sammy?"

Jack nodded again. Slithering closer to the corrupted beauty, he held out one of his black streaky limbs towards her.

Normally, Susie-Alice would have run screaming at such a gesture. But this was no ordinary Swollen Searcher. This was _Jack Fain_... her old friend. And a friend of Sammy's, to boot.

Plus, it looked like he was here to help.

Susie-Alice offered him her hand gracefully, like a Regency débutante at a ball. As carefully as he could, Jack wrapped his long, oozing tentacle around it, and led her slowly down the hall.

* * *

That night was a restless one for Sammy Lawrence.

Locked in his secret chamber within the recording studio, he laid himself prostrate before Bendy and prayed fervently: murmuring mantras so fast, so eagerly, so _faithfully_ , that his words of admiration began to blur into one.

Knowing that faith required suffering, he remained motionless for several hours... so long, in fact, that the ink from his own body began to drip and seep along the floorboards beneath him.

It was only when his limbs began to give way, and his speech started turning into nonsensical gibberish, that he finally called it a night, and collapsed into his bed.

Even then, sleep didn't come. His heart ached constantly – the pain real and physical in his chest – as images of Susie and Joey together, doing all manner of disgusting, treacherous things, raced through his imagination, refusing to stop.

This was penance, Sammy soon decided. A punishment he had to endure, for sinning against his Lord – choosing to trust a traitor over his savior. Despite knowing that he would surely be rewarded for his agony, it did nothing to alleviate his pain.

* * *

As the morning came, strange sounds of music and singing floated in from just beyond Sammy's sanctuary door... instantly pulling him out of his torturous mental movie show.

" _Whisper to the wind and say that love has sinned..."_

Sammy knew that lyric. It was from his favourite song. He had heard it many times, by many different singers... but none as melodic, as perfect, as _heavenly_ as this.

Almost somersaulting out of bed, he raced out of his sanctuary...

...and found himself watching his own private concert.

The entire orchestra was manned and in full swing, under the careful conducting of Jack Fain. The Butcher Gang, Searchers, Lost Ones - they had all taken up musical instruments, and were playing the melody with great gusto.

Their keen performance, however, was nothing compared to the singer. Her voice rose above the music with power and passion... her hand tenderly caressing the microphone in such a way that Sammy would have even renounced his savior for the chance to trade places with it – to be the one savouring that soft touch instead.

The touch of Susie Campbell.

 _This was the voice he had fallen in love with... all those years ago._

He watched, spellbound, until that dreaded moment that the song was concluded. Once he was free of the siren's spell, Sammy was no long able to deny his anger.

"Brava," he said gruffly, clapping his hands in slow, staged applause. "With a voice like that, it's no surprise Joey wanted you. Now, kindly keep the noise down. Some of us are saying prayers."

As the prophet started to return to his sanctuary, Jack Fain looked up towards the projector booth, and nodded.

Before Sammy had the chance to even touch the hidden door, a vast black shadow pounced down from above – landing before him with a thud.

The Projectionist.

In one lightning-fast motion, Norman lashed out his claws, and grabbed a tight hold of Sammy's shoulders. The masked man shouted and struggled against him, but lacked the strength to set himself free.

As her cinematic ally held Sammy still, Susie-Alice saw her chance, and approached her sweetheart – bringing her face dangerous close to his, giving him no option but to look deeply into her eyes.

"Sammy," she said firmly. "Listen to me."

With his squirming and shaking doing him no good, Sammy accepted the situation, and grew still.

" _Yes,_ I had dinner with Joey," Susie-Alice admitted. "And I kept it strictly business. He said it was just a chance to privately discuss my career – the dirty liar. I'll admit it... he _tried_ to take things further, but I wouldn't let him."

Sammy's eyebrows shot up as he heard these words. As he started to relax and lose resistance, Norman risked releasing him from his grasp, drawing back his claws carefully.

His old friend stayed exactly where he was.

"He... he touched me," Susie-Alice continued. "I mean, he _tried_ to. But I pushed him away. I wouldn't let him do that to me, Sammy. I didn't want him."

Reaching out towards her, Sammy took one of Susie-Alice's hands in his.

"I wanted _you_. I only _ever_ wanted you."

Their fingers intertwined.

"And for that, Joey took Alice away from me."

With one strong tug, Sammy pulled Susie-Alice into his arms, and embraced her tightly. As his beloved buried her face into his shoulder, Sammy moved his mouth towards her ear.

"Forgive me," he whispered. "Susie, please... _forgive me_."

"I already have," came the meek reply.

Smiling, Sammy looked over at Jack.

"Hey, Fain," he called casually. "Give us a little something."

Jack nodded, and Sammy swore he could see a smile forming deep within his dark inky visage. With a wave of Jack's tentacle, the motley misfit band struck up, and filled the room with the harmonious notes of a waltz. One of Mr. Lawrence's own masterpieces.

Humming along with the familiar tune, Sammy started to whirl Susie-Alice slowly around in his arms – leading her seamlessly into a slow dance.

Norman, seizing his opportunity to set the mood, threw a claw at a light switch on the wall, then dashed back to his booth: bounding up the stairs on all fours like a charging cheetah. Once he had reclaimed his perch above everything and everyone, he shone a beam of light through his lens onto the dancing couple – making it blaze as brightly as he could muster.

As she sank deeper into Sammy's embrace, Susie-Alice knew she didn't care one jot if her perfect, carefully crafted body was stained by the prophet's ink. She could simply melt away into him, for all she cared... which, given the heat of Norman's beam, was rapid becoming a quite plausible outcome. That would merely mean that they were merging with one another: growing even closer together, becoming one. It would be heaven – or at least, the closest they could ever get to it.

They had already been parted for far too long.

As the waltz began to slow and fade away, Susie-Alice prayed that Sammy wouldn't let her go. Not now. And he didn't. She stayed safe in his strong, sturdy arms as he carefully brought their twirling and whirling to a halt.

"I love you, Sammy Lawrence," Susie-Alice whispered.

"And I love you, Susie Campbell."

Susie-Alice tilted her head to look up at him. Reaching towards his face, she clasped a hand around his mask, and pulled it clean off of his face - tossing it aside with a short, sharp swipe.

Sammy choked nervously, dreading to see how Susie-Alice would react to his monstrous, ill-formed face. He raised a hand instinctively to try and hide it from her, but his paramour pulled it away: cupping his cheek in her hand and stroking it softly.

"You're still so handsome," she told him – meaning every word.

Smiling, Sammy tilted his head downwards, whilst Susie-Alice's lifted hers further. Their faces grew ever closer... their lips puckering in anticipation as their mouths prepared to meet.

A sharp, piercing, static-laden shriek rang out from above. To the horror of the assembled party, Norman Polk had been hurled from his booth like a paper ball being tossed into a trash can. As the Searchers and Lost Ones instinctively rushed for cover, Norman plummeted down helplessly into the music hall below: his lens shattering as he struck the floor with a sickening thud, plunging the room into darkness.

Up where the Projectionist had stood moments ago, the eyes of the Ink Demon blinked into view.

Her former caring heart restored to her, Susie freed herself from Sammy's tightening terrified grasp, and hurried over to Norman, praying that he was all right. He had helped her and Sammy get back together – a valiant act for which he paid a tragic price.

Before she even had the chance to touch him, the Ink Demon swooped down like a hawk, seizing Susie tightly in its talons. As she screamed, horrified, Sammy charged at the vile creature, desperate to set her free: willing to lose his life if that was what it would cost.

He was vastly outmatched. With one strike, the Ink Demon sent him flying into a wall - as easily as a kitten bats away a ball of wool. By the time Sammy had recovered from the blow, it was too late.

Looking up, he was forced to witness the horror of the oily overlord absorbing Susie-Alice into himself: her wide, weeping eyes being covered up by his ebony ooze, before he crashed down into the floorboards, vanishing from sight.

A Lost One hit the lights. As the Butcher Gang surrounded Norman, helping him into a sitting position as they inspected his lens, Jack Fain slithered over to check on Sammy. Unable to speak, he simply stared into his colleague's still-unmasked face: pleading for some sort of signal about what they should do now.

In less than a second, Sammy placed two fingers into his mouth, and whistled loudly.

Immediately, everybody present turned to face him: braced and ready to listen to whatever he had to say.

 _The Ink Prophet's will be done._

In the end, Sammy's commandment was simple.

"We have to find Henry."

* * *

 _ **NOTE: The song Susie sings, as you might have guessed, is "Willow Weep for Me" - Sammy's favourite song, according to the Hot Topic Twitter takeover.**_


	9. Prisoners, Platters & Passionate Reunion

A slim streak of light pierced the thick, inky darkness surrounding Susie-Alice. As she scrambled blindly towards it, the sludgy cocoon around her appeared to melt away at her touch, until finally, she was free - having emerged in the Throne Room of the Ink Demon. The black puddle that now surrounded her rose up into its beastly form... emitting a low, pleasurable groan.

"Oh, _Susie.._." Joey rasped lustfully. "I've never been touched like _that_ before."

Susie-Alice, outraged, swept a hand forward in a violent slap - only for it to be caught in the Ink Demon's paw.

"Now, now," Joey said patronisingly. "Let's not do anythin' we might regret later, hmm? Remember, I created you. I can destroy you just as easily."

"Sammy will destroy you first," Susie-Alice stated confidently. "Unless, of course, I get the chance myself."

The demon rolled its eyes.

" _Honestly_ , Susie," Joey muttered. "Whatever do you see in that introverted, easily irritated, baton-wavin' amateur? He was always happy bein' mediocre, run-of-the-mill. But you, dearie, have real talent. You should be more ambitious with your romances. Connect with someone more... successful. Powerful."

He tucked a talon under Susie-Alice's chin, his gristly mouth contorting wildly in his attempt at a seductive smile.

"Like me," he purred.

Joey moved the talon to brush over her lips gently. At the slimy, ice-cold touch of it, Susie bit down upon it sharply.

Hissing, Joey pulled his paw away, and scratched her cheek - leaving black, ink-filled scars upon it.

" _That_ was your last chance, you little bitch!" he spat. "Just for that, you won't get out of here alive!"

With a snap of his claws, the ink flooded across the floor rose up, binding itself into heavy dark chains. As they dove at Susie-Alice in a sudden swoop, she wriggled and batted them away as best as she could, but as their number increased, she was soon ensnared: bound to the spot, with no way to free herself.

Joey chuckled with sinister satisfaction.

"I think it might be time for a staff meetin'," he remarked, slithering away.

* * *

Up in the safehouse, Boris stepped carefully between what few open patches of floor remained as he handed out cans of Bacon Soup to his numerous guests. The small dining area was filled to the brim with Searchers, Lost Ones, and all manner of inky creatures.

When they'd first arrived about half an hour ago, having knocked on the door politely for Boris to open, Henry, seeing them over the wolf's shoulder, had charged at them blindly, wielding a hatchet – suspecting yet another one of Joey's traps. It was only when he spotted Sammy running up the corridor, with the fleeing little monsters all taking shelter behind him, that he gathered that, they too, were ex-colleagues, with their memories regained – meaning they were on the same side.

At the dining table, Henry now sat opposite a pensive, anxious Sammy. Taking a spoon, the animator tapped repeatedly on the wooden surface, calling for quiet silence from the gathered assembly.

"Look, I agree with you all that we have to get Susie back," he stated. "But we can't just charge in there without thinking. We may well outnumber him, but Joey has powers from the gods – and he's not afraid to use them. To stand a chance, we have to come up with a proper plan."

"You don't have time for that, Henry!" Boris interjected.

"I have until tomorrow."

"But you're leaving it too soon! If Sammy and Susie don't kiss - "

As one, the entire room turned to look at him, stunned... including a certain ex-prophet.

" _What_ did he say?" Sammy asked Henry, alarmed.

"I'm sorry," Henry said sheepishly. "I should have told you before."

"Told me what?"

"I... I wasn't just trying to get you and Susie back together because of old times," the animator explained. "I... I made a deal with Joey. If I could get you two to share a kiss of true love within six days, everything would be restored to the way things were before - before you all got trapped in this nightmare. But, if you don't... then I'm stuck under Joey's control for eternity."

"So... you _used_ us?" Sammy said, incredulous. "Like pawns in a game of chess?"

"I'm sorry," Henry replied, the remorse clear in his voice. "But I only agreed to it in the first place because I was so certain you two would find your love again. After all... you belong together."

Sammy smiled.

"And you belong with your Linda," he answered. "I remember her – how much you love her. You should be back home with her right now, not stuck here in this inky hell. We'll get you out of here, Henry. I promise. Besides..."

A shy, bashful giggle followed.

"I want to kiss my Susie more than anything."

Before Henry could respond, a large, static crackling sound rang out along the corridor. Everyone turned to Norman, believing the noise was coming from his speaker – but he shook his head, shrugging his shoulders in confusion.

As the tinny hiss died away, it was replaced with an unfortunately all-too-familiar voice.

"Now hear this!" Joey Drew barked over the tannoy. "I know you little _traitors_ are up there with Henry, and my former prophet. You all want your two precious lovebirds to lock lips and set you all free, huh? Well, as long as one half of the partnership is in my possession, that's not goin' to happen, now, is it? So, I'm givin' all of my inky children one chance, _and one chance only_ , to come back onto the winnin' team."

As he paused, everyone gathered in the safehouse strained themselves to listen.

"By midday tomorrow, I want the head of Sammy Lawrence." Joey demanded. "Chopped clean off his shoulders, served to me on a platter, as part of a worship ritual. His lips won't be much good for kissin' when they're cold. Whichever one of you brings it to me will go free - humanity restored, no catch. If no-one obliges me, I'll come lookin' for it myself – _after_ I deal with Miss Campbell. And believe me... I'll show no mercy to anyone else who gets in my way."

Sammy swallowed nervously as he heard this terrifying spiel. A couple of the Lost Ones, frightened, gathered themselves into a little circle - clutching Boris' legs for support as he reached down to pet them.

"And just to make sure there's no funny business," Joey went on, "all of your rebirth privileges have now been revoked. If any of you die for your defiance, then the inkwells won't help you one bit. I trust you'll make the right choice."

With another crackle, the tannoy fell silent.

Sammy looked down at the axe he was holding, tightening his grip on it out of an instinct to protect himself. As long as he had this, his head was safe. Suddenly, a thick black tentacle lashed out towards the weapon, grasping it like a lasso. As Sammy tried to pull it away, Jack Fain fought back, struggling valiantly - until, with one great heave, he tugged it clean out of Sammy's hands.

As the ex-prophet stepped back, hands raised in a gesture of surrender, Jack flung away his fellow Searchers with his sticky, stretchy appendages - slithering closer and closer to the dining table.

* * *

Seated on his ebony throne, his talons toying with the chains around Susie-Alice's body as she forcibly stood beside him, Joey Drew was getting bored of waiting.

The night had passed without any interruption – a suspicious thing in itself around here. Now, it was getting close to his midday deadline, and he was reluctant to go hunting for his prey... not after he'd made himself so comfortable.

Up ahead, in the corridor, he spotted a small, flickering light. More lights soon joined it, growing bigger every moment. As Joey watched, intrigued, the little beacons moved nearer and nearer to his throne: candles burning brightly, carried by his inky creations, who had clad themselves in hooded black robes, and who were walking, heads bowed, in a solemn procession towards their deity.

Leading them was Boris the Wolf, carrying something different in his hands. The offering was round in shape, ink dripping from it like water from a old tap.

Most disturbing of all, it was clad in a broken Bendy mask.

As Susie-Alice's eyes fell upon it, her mouth fell open in a silent scream, her entire body shaking in pure horror as all of her hope fell away.

Joey, on the other hand, clapped his paws together in sheer delight. As the procession stopped before him, honouring him with a low bow, he rose from his seat of power, and staggered towards them, reaching eagerly for Boris' gift.

"You were the last one I expected to do this, wolf boy," he remarked, pleasantly surprised. "Still, I'm glad to see that _you_ , at least, appreciate your creator."

As slowly as he could muster, not wanting to hurry through the pleasure of it, Joey slid his claws around the mask elastic, pulling it carefully off of his treasure.

Free of the binding, Jack Fain unrolled himself, and leaped – latching themselves tightly over the Ink Demon's face, blocking his vision.

As Joey blindly flailed and roared, outraged at the deception, the other victims of the ink took their cue - rushing at him in one united wave, willing to fight and die for their freedom. They had no weapons, but were all too happy to bite and scratch at him as rapidly as they could.

Meanwhile, one hooded figure rushed up to Susie-Alice, axe in hand, and began to chop away the mystical chains that bound her. As it raised its head to look at her, Susie-Alice felt her heart begin to race again when she saw a familiar mask beneath the fabric.

"Sammy!"

He nodded.

 ** _Back at the safehouse, Jack had snatched the axe from Sammy – only to immediately give it to Henry for safekeeping. In that bold gesture, he had made it clear to his cursed peers which animator here was the one to trust. All the same, he didn't want anyone getting tempted._**

With a couple more swipes of the blade, Susie was free. Unfortunately, so was Joey. In the tussle that had ensued, he had managed to peel Jack off of his face, throwing him against the wall like a spatter ball, before angrily beating back his other smaller creations.

Arching his back like a cat, the Ink Demon hurriedly began a metamorphosis: entering into his final beastly, barbaric form. Once transformed, he charged directly at the lovers: pouncing forward, claws pointed, ready to pierce their inky flesh.

Sammy hurriedly pushed Susie out the way, taking the full brunt of the attack: pinned and trapped beneath the Beast's huge, fierce frame, whilst his beloved scrambled hastily towards another hooded visitor - Henry.

"Head for the safehouse," the aged man told her.

"But what about Sammy?"

"We'll protect him – I promise. Now _go!_ "

Susie obeyed, not daring to look back. She hurried through the halls as fast as her feet could carry her, the Ink Demon's roars gradually growing fainter... until she was stopped suddenly by a tugging sensation on her arm.

Looking over her shoulder, she noticed a strange, supernatural circle painted upon the wall.

 _A portal._

And from within, something had reached out to take hold of her hand.

* * *

Back in the Throne Room, Joey raised his arms far above Sammy's still-trapped body, and brought it down with a mighty crash: the talons digging into him like a fork into meat, thick ink oozing out of him. As Joey withdrew his paw, he dragged the mask and hooded cloak away with it.

Before his eyes, the nude "Sammy" fell apart into three separate pieces, all of which morphed into little Lost Ones before fleeing for cover.

Screaming, Joey turned to face Henry, who was now armed and ready with the axe.

"WHERE IS HE?" he bellowed – his mouth thrust into Henry's face, the noise so loud that it was deafening.

His ex-colleague stood his ground with great courage, not even flinching in the Beast's presence anymore.

"He's where he should have been for thirty years," he replied.

* * *

Tightening her grip on the eerie, ethereal limb trapped halfway between worlds, Susie-Alice, with the gentlest of tugs, beckoned the traveller to emerge. The arm was followed by a torso, then legs, and finally, a head. One that had a familiar face... even when it was unmasked.

"Hello, Susie," it said. "Nice trick if you can do it, huh?"

" _Sammy!_ _"_ came the ecstatic reply. _"_ Oh, Sammy, my _darling!_ _"_

Susie-Alice rushed into Sammy's open and waiting arms, almost collapsing out of sheer relief, and he embraced her tightly – as though he never wanted to let her go again.

"Forget everything that's happened between us," he told her. "Forget about Allison, Joey... all of that. It's over now. Only one thing remains, and only one thing matters."

 ** _As Joey, furious beyond all reason, swiped his sword-like claws at Henry incessantly, the aged animator ducked and weaved, deftly dodging the blows._**

As Sammy placed his palm on Susie-Alice's cheek, she covered it with her own.

"I love you so much, Susie Campbell," he said. "Too much time has been lost between us already. Once we're free from this abyss, I want to spend the rest of my life with you - as man and wife. Please... will you do me the honour of becoming Mrs. Samuel Lawrence?"

 _ **As Henry swung the axe aimlessly, the Ink Demon mirrored the swipe, knocking the weapon clean out of his hand. Now unarmed and defenceless, Henry backed up against the wall as the monster drew ever nearer.**_

Susie-Alice's smiled stretched a mile wide, tears rolling down her cheeks.

"Yes! _Yes_ , Sammy, _of course_ I will!"

Sammy titled his head towards hers.

"Then how about we seal it with a kiss?"

 ** _Joey reared up to his full towering height - ready to deliver his final, fatal blow. Henry, with nowhere to run, sensed that this was the end for him. Closing his eyes, he awaited the inevitable._**

 ** _A scream followed._**

 ** _The scream of the Ink Demon._**

 ** _As Henry opened his eyes, they widened into a stare._**

 ** _All throughout the Demon's body, powerful beams of light were breaking out. The foul beast, writhing in agony, was melting away rapidly – the ink that created its form and the black pool covering the Throne Room floor vanishing away into nothingness._**

 ** _The light grew stronger, then stronger still, until finally... a blinding flash._**


	10. Epilogue: Ink-Black Coffee & Angel Cake

**"Henry? So soon? I didn't expect you for another hour yet. Now you're just trying to impress me."**

 **As Henry Stein walked along the carpeted corridor and into the kitchen, he greeted the occupant with a smile.**

 **"Hello, Susie. It's been a while, hasn't it?"**

 **"Nearly three years," Susie Lawrence replied, beckoning him to take a seat at the table. "There's a cake in the oven, but it's not quite ready yet. Can I get you a coffee to start with?"**

 **"Sure – thanks."**

" **How do you take it?**

" **Black, please. Two sugars."**

 **As Henry made himself comfortable, Susie placed three cups and the cafetiere on a silver serving tray - bringing it over as she took a seat beside her guest.**

 **"So, what brings you back here?" she asked, pouring him his drink.**

 **"I've been over to the studio," Henry replied. "A business trip, I suppose. Sorting out a few things before I officially start my retirement. Your house is on my route back, so I'd figured I pay you a visit."**

 **"Well, you're always welcome here, Henry," Susie replied.**

 **As she took a sip from her own cup, her eyes drifted upwards towards a wedding photo on the wall.**

 **"After all – where would we be without you?"**

* * *

As the overwhelming white light finally cleared, the clock had been set back by thirty long years.

The memories remained, but not the monsters. There were no ink creatures here - no darkness, no dreariness. Just the normal working interior of Joey Drew Studios, as it was its in heyday.

Everyone had been changed back. Jack, Norman, Shawn, Grant, Wally... _everyone._ Their youthful human forms restored, the team members clutched and grabbed at their former bodies: whooping in delight, scarcely able to believe that they were finally free. Even Henry, despite never having lost his human form, had been restored to his younger self.

As the colleagues embraced each other excitedly and clapped Henry on the back in the former Throne Room, full of celebratory glee, Susie and Sammy were still standing together in the corridor - their lips joined in a tender kiss, oblivious to what was happening around them. It was only when they pulled apart for breath and opened their eyes that they learned of the magic their love had performed.

Reaching up, Susie ran her fingers through Sammy's long golden locks, pulled back tightly into a ponytail - gasping in astonishment. In return, Sammy, cupping Susie's face in his peach-toned, ink-free hands, ran his thumbs over her rosy cheeks: staring deeply into her shining eyes as he playfully tugged at one of the many mousey-brown curls that framed her face.

As the sound of cheers and excited laughter drew ever closer, the pair turned to see the crowd of their colleagues running up towards them - carrying Henry above their heads like a emperor in a sedan chair.

Jack Fain, who led the pack, stopped before the couple, and removed his bowler, making a low respectful bow as he had done before the Ink Demon. Having been silenced for so long, he croaked and clucked as he re-familiarized himself with the action of speaking, before shouting out at the top of his lungs.

"THANK YOU!"

As everyone winced at the bellow, Jack covered his mouth, embarrassed.

"Sorry," he said, his voice now barely above a whisper. "I need to get used to volume again."

"So," Norman asked, his own voice toned rather more evenly. "From what's happened, I'm guessing you two are finally back together?"

"Yes," Susie confirmed. "And this time, it's forever. We just got engaged."

"Really?!" Jack piped up, delighted. "Congratulations!"

Flattered, Sammy shyly offered a hand for him to shake. Jack took it warmly, then pulled the stunned music director into a bear hug - prompting everyone else to join in. Lowering Henry down a little more swiftly then he would have liked (not quite a drop, but still enough to unnerve him), the group almost squashed Sammy and Susie in their hectic rush to embrace them.

It was only when she was let go, and had the chance to look around the familiar faces, that a sudden chilling thought came to Susie's mind.

"Wait," she said hurriedly. "Where's Joey?"

The colleagues looked at each other, but just as Susie had noticed, Joey wasn't among their number. Norman and Shawn ran back to the Throne Room, only to report moments later that it was empty.

As Henry set off up the stairs, hurrying towards Joey's office, everyone else followed: a nervous feeling rising in their stomachs as they contemplated the possibility that the Ink Demon might still be alive. However, as they reached the office door, they skidded to a halt - looking up in awe at the name displayed.

 _Henry Stein._

" _Me?_ " Henry rasped, stunned. "This office... is _mine?_ "

He tried not to let the eeriness of the situation get to his head as another concern took hold.

"The Ink Machine," he said, bluntly. "We have to check if the Ink Machine is still here."

So began another burst of running up stairwells and along corridors. As Henry led the Sillyvision team to the location of the large ritual chamber, they found a plain, empty room waiting for them - no different from any other section of the studio.

A calendar hanging on the wall revealed the date. In the former timeline, this had been the day before the Ink Machine had begun to be constructed.

"Joey's gone," Jack said to Henry, as the realization dawned upon him. "It's like he never existed. There's no rituals here, no Ink Machine. Everything has been reset."

"Then why do we remember what happened before?" Norman asked.

"Presumably, so we don't make the same mistakes again," Grant replied.

"But, if Joey's gone," Shawn queried, "then who's in charge?"

"Hey, guys!" shouted Wally, standing a few metres away from them. "Come and look at this!"

As everyone hurried over towards him, their eyes were drawn to the company sign on the wall. The three reels that formed the backdrop were still in place, but there was one major difference. The name.

 _Henry Stein Studios._

"That settles it," said Norman. "Fate has chosen you, Henry."

"It's chosen well," Sammy added. "You created Bendy, Henry. It always should have been your name up there. I'd be honoured to work for you."

"Me too," Wally said. "For once in my life, I don't wanna be outta here."

Murmurs of agreement followed from the others.

"So, boss," Susie said, turning to Henry with a smile – Sammy draping an arm across her shoulders. "What's the first order of business?"

As Henry looked at the assembled motley crew - each gifted in their own way, vastly different in personalities, and all ready and willing workers - a great wave of gratitude washed over him.

 _He wasn't going to make Joey's mistakes. To get the best out of people, you had to do your best for them._

"We've had a rough time, folks," he remarked. "Besides, we have an engagement to celebrate. How about we hit the bars tonight, take a few days off, and start with a clean slate on Monday?"

The cheer that followed could be heard three streets away.

* * *

 **Four months later, Sammy and Susie were married.**

 **Henry, the guest of honour, was also Sammy's best man. Susie, as a peace offering, chose Allison Pendle as her chief bridesmaid. The two had reached a compromise about the role of Alice Angel: Allison would provide the speaking voice, and Susie the singing.**

 **Their wonderful wedding ceremony, which they chose to hold in the studio's Music Department – a place that meant so much to both of them - marked the beginning of a blissful marriage. On that day in the new 1963 when Henry sat drinking coffee in their kitchen, their Pearl Anniversary was on the horizon. In the thirty years they had been together, the pair had enjoyed successful careers under Henry's management, prior to their recent retirement, and had welcomed three children into the world – whom had gone on to start their own families.**

 **As Henry drained the dregs of his coffee, chatting to Susie idly, he realised that the third cup had remained untouched.**

" **Where's Sammy?" he asked.**

" **Oh... he must be busy with our other special visitor," Susie said. "Would you be a dear and fetch him for me whilst I take out the cake? He's just up the stairs on the left."**

" **No problem."**

 **As Henry arrived on the upstairs landing, he noticed that a door was slightly ajar. Peeking inside, he spotted a familiar figure – his silver hair tied back, a pair of spectacles resting lightly on his nose – leaning down over a cradle, singing softly, with a small toy lamb in his hands.**

" _ **Sheep, sheep, sheep, it's time for sleep.**_

 _ **Rest your head, it's time for bed.**_

 _ **In the morning, when you wake,**_

 _ **I'll be here, so feel no dread."**_

 **Placing the lamb beside the sleeping infant within, he planted a kiss on their head, before turning towards the doorway – gesturing for his visitor to enter.**

" **That's not the version of the song I remember," Henry said in hushed tones. "Although, I think I prefer it."**

" **Well, the original isn't exactly kid-friendly," came the response. "And it's certainly not appropriate for my precious grandson."**

 **He smiled.**

" **His name is Henry," he added. "After you. My son chose it after I told him the story of how you saved us."**

" **It was you and Susie who broke the spell," Henry replied.**

" **But _you_ made the deal with Joey," Sammy insisted. "You brought us back together. You risked your life to get us out of that hell - "**

 **He glanced down towards his sleeping grandson.**

" **\- that heckhole," he went on, correcting himself as Henry stifled a laugh. "We owe you our lives. Our happiness. Our _everything._ We've never forgotten that."**

 **He nodded towards the wall behind him.**

 **As Henry looked over, he spotted a picture of himself, sat at the desk in the studio, hung up over the baby's cradle.**

 **Beside it was a old, broken Bendy mask.**

 **Beneath these items was a gold-plated plaque - a single phrase engraved upon it.**

 _ **HE HAS SET US FREE.**_

 **Blinking away a tear, Henry took a moment to compose himself.**

" **Come on," he said to Sammy brightly. "Susie's baking a cake."**

" **You're in for a treat. Her baking is as good as her singing. Well... _almost_."**

 **Putting his arms around Henry's shoulders, Sammy Lawrence led his savior down the stairs.**


End file.
